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by threewalls



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Japanese Football, M/M, World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-08-25
Updated: 2003-08-25
Packaged: 2017-10-15 16:23:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ken at the '02 World Cup, Japan vs. Belgium, Saitame Stadium.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [quixotic_sense](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=quixotic_sense).



> Thanks to bounce for beta and lynndyre for critiquing.

We made a promise when they announced we'd be hosting the Cup. We weren't even in J-League yet, but I knew we would be. The way I knew we could be here if we trained hard enough. Maybe we'd both end up on the bench, but we'd be here.

You think you'll forget, eventually, how large professional stadiums can be. How the grass smells. How the crowd feels. The song in your blood when ninety minutes is your whole life.

It’s only six years later. I am here, though in the stands. Kase’s not.

I know, because I killed him.

\---

"We'll have to advance first in our group. That'll probably get us Turkey. Going through second will put us against Brazil--they'll definitely be first of theirs, even with Ronaldo’s injury. No host team has *ever* not managed to at least advance to the round of sixteen. We have to be first through. We can beat Turkey."

"If you've already worked it all out," Aya asks, "why do you need to watch?"

I don't think it’s the criticism it could be, but it is startling. It’s so difficult to imagine this being just a game to anyone.

It’s our first match at our first World Cup, the very first hosted in Asia. Even if we don't go all the way, just being here will improve the game here and in the entire region in too many ways to count. And we do have a good team. We took second in last year’s Confederation Cup, against France! I can't remember a time when I didn't want to simply *be* at a World Cup, but to be at this World Cup--

I sound so stupid when I put all that into words. Having dreams about football, when Aya’s dreams are so much... more noble.

He’s watching me from the corner of his eye, facing the pitch, and I know he doesn't care that much about the starting line-ups. It’s Aya. I'm not sure he cares whether I give him an answer or not. But, why would he ask if he didn't want to know?

"Because everything that matters happens on the field, on the day. You can watch it anywhere but you only feel it here. Good teams have bad days. Average teams have miracles. Ninety minutes at a time, it’s all that counts."

You wouldn't think from that, but I did manage to swallow the more corny answers. That football is like life, even if life has nothing like wiping the slate clean at the start of every tournament.

Aya almost smiles, so I guess it’s enough of an answer. In a way, it’s surprising that’s he’s here with me at all. A good way. He’s made it clear he’s not here for the football.

A box arrived by courier a week ago, with a dark blue number one jersey and two tickets. I don't want to know how much they cost, or how he got them. They're only mid-range, but spontaneity is expensive. This is one hell of a first date, if that’s what this is.

It didn’t have a card, but there were roses embossed into the box and Aya agreed to come when I showed him the tickets. That’s direct for Aya, who only touches me after missions. I can't really mind when I know he’s trying.

People have been knocking into him all day. Aya has this uncanny ability to lurk for a man with hair that red. His clothes clash on purpose except when he’s on missions, and except right now. He’s wearing the jersey that I couldn't.

Kawaguchi’s earned the right; I'm a just guy who hasn't trained in over two years.

I heard someone put all the team statistics into a computer. It said Brazil would beat Italy in the final. Three years ago, it might have said I'd be in goal today.

Nigeria held the World Youth Championship in 1999 and we blew the world away. We made the final, losing to Spain. I was second string to Sogahata, who’s third string today. I only played two games, my first (and only) internationals. I lost the medal with the life I lost in the fire. I miss my family more.

Looking back, I probably should have seen it coming, even though there’s still a part of me that will never expect own goals.

Kase didn't make it past the first few training camps for Nigeria. Midfield positions were more competitive than goal. I remember he was--disappointed. He'd never liked playing anything but offense, and he blamed me for suggesting he concentrate on the positions he played best.

There’s no way conceding a goal isn't the keeper’s fault or that a striker’s no one if they don't score. A run of losses is likely to lose a manager their job. Those positions get the media attention, for better or for worse. Lousy defence and midfield cripple a team as much as any position, but it’s rare they get noticed.

I didn't see at the time how important that was to him. I just loved playing. I loved--

I haven't been inside a stadium this size since the fire. I wonder if Aya knows that. Or if he noticed that Youji offered to take me, back when tickets went on sale six months ago and that I said no.

"Did you know any of them?" Aya’s voice is soft and he’s moved closer to be heard. It must be lonely, standing in the middle of all this without it touching you.

"A little, but it was a long time ago." I return his whisper, grinning when he doesn't move away.

I'm actually a little surprised at just how many I have played with. It’s such a young team. Troussier managed us for Nigeria and he hasn't been shy about taking up new talent. Ichikawa’s Omi’s age, but he’s midfield, so stamina counts for more than experience. Sogahata’s only sixteen months older than me. I'm glad he’s out there, even if he’s only on the bench.

I've missed the game, but the game’s more than what happens on the field. I'll always miss being in front of the net, but it doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would to be here. I was a fan before I was player, before J-League and silver medals.

I didn't have a choice, but I don't regret the path my life’s taken. I was blessed and nothing that came afterwards takes away from that. I know it sounds corny, but sometimes clichés are the best words you have.

It’s the World Cup and I'm finally here; what can beat that?

"You're smiling."

It could be an accusation, but it’s Aya. He’s not looking at me at all now.

Everyone’s standing and the crowd’s somehow thickening as we count down to kick-off. Half a shuffle in Aya’s direction and our hands are touching. A heartbeat passes, and Aya’s hand is clutching mine.

"You know how crazy I am about football, Aya. There’s nowhere I'd rather be."

\---

"That was... amazing."

I flop down on my bed. It was a goal-heavy tie, followed by two hours of Aya’s death-grip behind me on the Kawasaki. I am so hard. We've already bettered our France '98 performance and there’s two games left.

"I've never been in a crowd like that. I don't know if you--"

"I enjoyed myself."

I tilt my head back in time to catch Aya stretch, slipping the jersey over his head. "Did you want to be out with the crowds? Celebrating?"

I sit up, grabbing a wrist and pulling him down with me.

"Maybe later."


End file.
